Archibald led the woman to the meadow where she would be reunited with her sister. He stayed silent, mostly, knowing no words he had would be a balm to Ktulu's open, festering wounds. Losing a child was the worst of hurts--and Archibald knew that personally--and there was no sense in mindlessly attempting to console his comrade. His presence was enough to show his sorrow for her and also his loyalty and heart, and he knew the Constrictor would accept that. They were soldiers, fighters, blood hunters down to the very core, and they spoke a different language than others they encountered. They spoke the language of strength and defiance, and Archibald would be Ktulu's crutch to regain her stability on that realm of warriorness once more if that was what she needed of him. But if she needed him to just be a shadow, watching and guarding, he would do that as well, standing vigilantly in the darkness as a specter.

Ophelia's light form was a flickering candle in the distance and the king picked up his pace to a gentle trot. He turned his head over his shoulder to watch Ktulu as he picked up his step. His golden eyes met her crimson and he gave her a steady nod. She was going to leave him to be with her sister, and part of that panged Archibald's heart, but the warlord understood. He understood the bond that twins shared, having his own twin. There was something about sharing a womb that bound two souls together for life. It was different than the companion bond he felt with Loretta, and in some ways it was stronger. While Vincent was not inside of his mind at all times, he knew the identical stallion inside and out and vice versa. He only assumed that it was the same with Ktulu and Ophelia--but Ophelia could be inside of Ktulu's head. She could hear and understand and feel Ktulu's hurts. It was what Ktulu needed.

But what about what Archibald needed? He was mourning, too. Circe was lost to the hooves of the Moon Goddess and his children were residing in the Dragon's Throat until his daughter was strong enough to join him in the World's Edge. He had wounds, too, and his twin was nowhere to be found to soothe them.

Archibald was alone.

[As always, Ophelia has perpetual permission to read Archibald's mind should she desire to. :3]

The candle flickering in the distance, the shining light that was Ophelia, suddenly rushed them. Archibald closed as the distance was closed by the blood-painted lady, and the stallion lowered his head some. A tension seemed to lift from his shoulders, but it did not make him any more comfortable. Ophelia embraced Ktulu, pulling the ebon mare tight into her breast and Archibald saw as Ktulu relaxed in the warmth of her sister's love. Archibald's ears flattened some and he glanced away, giving them a moment of privacy that they deserved. Out of the years he had known the sisters, nothing like this hurricane of sorrow and defeat had ever hit them before. No struggle prior to this was as heavy, as difficult, as deeply cutting. Even when his daughter Callisto passed in her birth, it was a silent endeavor that the Dauntless carried in his heart and only shared his mourning with Circe. Now, however, all of Helovia was mourning in some way at the loss of a loved one. Archibald and Ktulu and Ophelia were mourning together--a mate, a mother, and an aunt--and they shared each others hearts more intimately now than in any moment before.

This would make them stronger, Archibald knew.

When the pristine lady stepped forward to press her muzzle into his shoulder, Archibald turned and extended his neck. Gently, the King planted a dry kiss of a thank you on the point of her flawless, left shoulder. He closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled deeply, his breath warm as it tickled over her. He pulled up, golden eyes matching her bihued, and he offered a smile. A small string plucked at his heart, though darkened, and he nodded his head. "I am," Archibald was impressed with the demeanor he had apparently presented to Ophelia, for the Dauntless knew his son to have all of the potential for cruelty that he had--and an even more inclination toward it. Nonetheless, his boys held a place of high regard and love in his heart--nothing that they did could take away his love for them. They were his flesh and blood, mixed with the delicate and fierce heart of his departed mare.

Archibald took a step back and looked to Ktulu, brushing his muzzle against her withers just a moment before Ophelia spoke. The behemoth tightened his jaw and his eyes narrowed, and at his side suddenly a deep growl left Loretta's throat--a guttural and dangerous sound. "He was never around in Hototo's life--from what I saw when your boy was with us in the Foothills." Archibald shared the anger with them, just as moments before he had shared their sorrow. Reality gripped Archibald's mind and had kept him grounded at their meeting, but every fiber of his soul and his heart wanted to throttle the puny pegasus stallion. Archibald wanted to rip him limb from limb for causing Ktulu pain. He wanted to see the light leave his eyes and fear enter as Archibald came down, the harbinger of his destruction.